


Last Night at the Barricade

by aceskywalker



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Alcohol Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 04:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4549683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceskywalker/pseuds/aceskywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras frowned, entered the room, all swagger and pride gone. “Are you alright, Grantaire?”<br/>Grantaire laughed in shock at Enjolras’ show of emotion, “Are you serious?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Night at the Barricade

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!! This is my first les mis fic ever (oh god) and the first fic I've posted since eight grade when I used to write Mary Sue inserts into fictional places. Not a good time...anyway! Be gentle!  
> This was written at request of my friend Emma, who is like, the coolest person in the universe. You can find her at eraofultron.tumblr.com.

Night had finally fallen on the barricade. Les Amis were scattered about the upturned furniture, resting or quietly drinking themselves into numbness. Combeferre had volunteered to take first watch; he sat at the top of the barricade, Courfeyrac’s head in his lap. He stroked his hair slowly, in a way of calming them both down. Grantaire sat inside the now abandoned Café l’ABC, guzzling wine as if it were his job. Enjolras was pacing a bit outside the entrance, seemingly deep in thought. R’s eyes followed him as he swallowed bitterly, vision blurring. R chucked darkly, willing to meet oblivion with open arms. Enjolras, hearing the laugh, popped his head in the doorway. “What’s so funny?”  
  


“M’self.” Grantaire let out a little hiccup, grin sloppy.  
  


Enjolras frowned, entered the room, all swagger and pride gone. “Are you alright, Grantaire?”  
  


Grantaire laughed in shock at Enjolras’ show of emotion, “Are you serious?”  
  
Enjolras pulled up a chair beside R, taking a bottle off the table and sipping it cautiously. “Yes. Am I not allowed to be concerned? You drink usually, yes, but not this much alone. Won’t you tell me what’s the matter?”  
  


The intensity of Enjolras’ stare brought color to R’s cheeks and truth to his tongue. “We’re going to die, Enj. You realized that yet?”  
  


“Yes.” Enjolras sighed, “I am aware. I will carry the burden of your deaths on my soul until it is extinguished. Even with this being the case, you all sighed up for it knowing that enviable truth. It is all choice. I kind of wish you didn’t choose this; I suppose it cannot be helped.” Enjolras took a swig from his bottle; long and deep. “With now more than likely being our final hours, do you not believe we should be honest with one another?”  
  


R shrugged, “Nothing could possibly surprise me.”  
  


Enjolras prayed that liquid luck could guide his way and he swallowed half his bottle, shaking violently. “I uh, I love you, R. I always have. It makes no sense, but I’m helplessly in love with someone who doesn’t believe in my cause and doesn’t believe in me. It’s ironic.”  
  


Silence hang heavy in the air for a couple of moments before R cleared his throat. “All I’ve ever believed in was you.”  


Enjolras, shocked, chanced a look at R, whose eyes were aflame with something he could not decipher. “What’s with all the arguments, then?”  
  


“If no one is there to give you doubt, Apollo, you’ll never learn how to defend your beliefs.”  


“Grantaire…”  
  


“I love you too, Enjolras. Why else would I do this to myself? Suffer by staring too long at the sun. I would die for you, if you permitted me to, Apollo. It would be my honor.”  
  


Enjolras and R stared at each other for a while, neither having enough courage or sober thought to move the conversation forward.  
  


“Listen, Apollo, I’m sorry if I said too much. You always warn me not to let the wine go to my brain, but.” R let his eyebrows finish the thought as he took another swig.  
  


Enjolras looked pensive for a moment. “May I kiss you?”  
  


Grantaire sputtered, a deer in headlights. “Excuse me? Am I dreaming? Am I dead?”  
  


Enjolras laughed, a bit coldly, “Not as of yet.”  
  


R nodded, “Why not? Let me die happy, I suppose.”  
  


Enjolras frowned at R’s words, but approached him anyway, kneeling in front of the shorter man. Every second Enjolras got closer, Grantaire’s breath came out more and more wheezing. R’s eyes were completely focused on Enjolras’ mouth and honestly, Enjolras couldn’t help but smile when he noticed. To R’s delight, Enjolras finally pressed their lips together; it was an innocent kiss, no heat, just a soft, slow movement of lips. They broke away to catch their breath and Enjolras noted that for the first time since he had met R, the man looked happy.  
  


“It has come to my attention that I do not know much about you. I’d rather spend my night getting to know you than building up anxiety and end up performing badly.”  
  


R laughed, “You’re very odd, but I will indulge you.”  
  


Combeferre, hearing raucous laughter, realized that those ridiculous boys had finally gotten together. A bit last minute, but that couldn’t be helped. At least they got to be happy before they died. Combeferre glanced down at the sleeping Courfeyrac in his lap, half smile pressing against his cheek.  
  


It was safe to assume that he was going to be on watch all night. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Courfeyrac’s forehead before resuming combing a hand through his hair and gazing out into the darkness. He was ready to die, he had had a happy life. So what if he was young?  
  


The following morning, les Amis waited with baited breath and rifles in hand. They appeared to be awaiting an attack that would never come. In the evening, Gavroche came running at the barricade, slip of paper in hand. He handed it to Enjolras, who consumed the words hungrily.  
  


“All the barricades survived. We won. We won!”  
  


Les Amis exploded in cheers, congratulating each other in a successful revolution. Enjolras, elated, grabbed R by his chin and kissed him passionately, expressing all he felt through this action.  
  


“I fucking love you, R.”  
  


Grantaire’s eyes watered as he stared up at his sun, the brightest fucking thing in the universe. Combeferre looking on, grinned. He wrapped Courfeyrac in the biggest hug possible, making the younger man laugh.  
  


No matter what was to come, whatever other battles they would have to face, they were survivors. Les Amis could go through hell and live.


End file.
